The Corridor

He’d waited at the corridor,

For so long there were treadmarks on the path he took,

The gavel adding to the beat,

On the other side, there was freedom

From the crime he committed,

The consequences he wasn’t ready to meet.

He wondered if he’d have to wait as long as he’d seen the life dim out of her eyes,
He wondered if she’d be waiting for him in his prison cell.

Haunting him at night.

This poem reminds me of Death Cab for Cutie vibes, my teen version would be proud.


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